


There's a Ghost in my Bed

by hecateandhoney (LiveLoveLikeMe)



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017), The Worst Witch - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, Fluff and Humor, Sharing a Bed, ghost - Freeform, pre-mumbroom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-08
Updated: 2019-01-08
Packaged: 2019-10-06 22:58:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,732
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17354216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveLoveLikeMe/pseuds/hecateandhoney
Summary: “Maybe you didn’t hear me the first time, but there’s a ghost in my bed,” she replies in the same tone.“And?” Hecate asks, like she’s waiting for more.“And it’s a ghost.  In my bed.  Did you miss that part?”Hecate, apparently desiring to be throttled, simply rolls her eyes like this whole disturbance is nothing more than an inconvenience for her.  And maybe, Julie thinks sourly, it is.  What does she care if the ghost does… well, ghost stuff to Julie?  She wants her gone; maybe she even sent the ghost.Instinct tells Julie to abandon her mission and go find another door.  Miss Drill will be more sympathetic, she thinks.  But spite?  Well, spite is a powerful ally, and she’s feeling full of it tonight.  Spite tells her to stay put right there until Hecate helps her.  Julie steels herself and plants her feet, making clear her intention to remain there as long as it takes.// Pre-Mumbroom, post 3.02 ignoring the very end





	There's a Ghost in my Bed

**Author's Note:**

> These new episodes have been inspiring far too much in me. I promise I'll return to all my in-progress works soon, but I have a lot of feelings to work out. Like Julie Hubble being in a school that could totally have ghosts and being totally unprepared for that-- I have a lot of feelings on that topic in particular.
> 
> This takes place post 3.02 but totally ignores Mildred's part at the end so let's just pretend that didn't happen.
> 
> Enjoy!

In the week since Julie Hubble joined the staff of Cackle’s Academy, she would like to think that things have improved.  _Like to_ being the key part of that thought, because it is nothing more than a fantasy she likes to tell herself when she goes to shut her eyes at night.

If she’s really honest with herself, there have been one or two highlights.  Spending more time with Millie, for instance, when she’s not getting herself into trouble.  And that Miss Drill, well, she’s a hoot and a half.  But none of that is truly enough to comfort her against all the less than savory things she’s come to learn about her new life as an art teacher.

For one, the castle is endlessly drafty.  There are bats, which she’s begrudgingly coming around to like after meeting Mildred’s little family of them, but she’s still weary of them coming into her classroom cupboard.  The students are still students of the magical variety, throwing a whole new array of pranks and downright dangerous stunts at her faster than she can catch.  Hecate Hardbroom is still, well, Hecate Hardbroom.

And none of that is helpful when she’s trying to trick herself into believing she’s totally fine and happy instead of sleeping.

Which is why tonight, like many nights before, Julie huffs and huddles more tightly under her covers.  The draft seems to have gotten worse—she’s positively freezing.  She makes a mental note to talk to Miss Cackle about seeing if they have a spare space heater stored away somewhere.  If these witches are as incapable of fixing things up around here with their magic as the castle makes them appear, there have got to be some hiding in a corner somewhere.

Julie shuts her eyes tightly against the darkness of the room.  _Come on, Julie,_ she thinks, _just count some sheep and it’ll be morning before you know it._

The sheep are, not surprisingly, ineffective themselves, but they do start to grow boring, which is a benefit all on its own.  Slowly, she can feel her breathing begin to even out.  Sleep seems just within reach when suddenly, startlingly, she hears a moan.

Strange sounds are another thing Julie has begrudgingly found herself getting used to during her first week at Cackle’s.  There are cats everywhere—literally, _everywhere_.  She can hardly believe it.  And aside from Tabby, they somehow look identical, yet everyone else knows them by name on sight.

So at first, as she hears the moaning, she assumes someone’s cat has gotten shut in her room—not for the first time.  With a heavy sigh that rips her delicate tendrils of sleep right out of her fingertips, Julie opens her eyes and sits up, intending to turn on the bedside lamp and investigate.

Her plan is squashed, however, because she can already see.  There’s a strange, almost iridescent blue glow emanating from the bed beside her.  She rubs her eyes to get the almost-sleep out, trying to make sense of it.  Is her phone going off?  Julie blinks, and slowly, the light sort of shifts into a shape right before her eyes.

Beside her on the bed is a large transparent woman, lounging atop the covers and staring—if one can call it that—over at Julie with deeply dark sunken holes where her eyes should be.

She blinks and rubs her eyes again, but no, sure enough, she’s still there, still staring.

Julie tries really hard not to freak out, but there is a ghost in her bed.

“Are you almost done tossing about all over the place?  I’m trying to get some rest,” the ghost bemoans.

“I’ll try to get right on that,” Julie replies breathlessly, blinking harder like the apparition still might blip out of existence.

And then, well…

Julie doesn’t scream exactly—that would require air, and she has none left in her lungs.  What she does do is make a very strangled noise, leap off the bed in a tangle of blankets, and make a run for it.

She’s not even sure where she’s going—even when she has a plan, half the time she ends up in the wrong place with all these strange winding passages.  Somehow Julie comes to a door that she thinks she’s seen before, but she can’t be certain.  The hall is particularly dark tonight, and she can’t take the time to try and make out the name-plate on the door while she’s banging on it for dear life.

By the time the door swings open, Julie’s panting and her fist is throbbing, but all of that pales in comparison to the horror that springs to life deep in her chest as she comes face to face with Miss Hardbroom.

Because of course, of all the doors she could end up at in the middle of the night, it would have to be hers.

Hecate looks just as displeased to see her, if not more so.  She, unlike Julie, has clearly been asleep prior to the interruption.

“Is a student injured or currently in harm’s way?” she asks automatically, pushing past Julie’s frantic breathing with the straightforwardness of her tone.

“What?  Uh, no,” Julie replies slowly, trying to piece her thoughts together.  “There’s a, uh, ghost.  In my bed.”  _Ghosts are real!?_

Before she knows what’s happening, Hecate has slammed the door in her face.

The actual nerve of it, Julie cannot believe her.  Ghost all but forgotten in the wake of Hecate Hardbroom’s middle-of-the-night rudeness, she pounds on the door again, louder this time, and more determined to keep her from sleep if she so much as tries to ignore it.

The door is yanked open with such sudden force, Julie nearly ploughs on through, her fist just barely missing Hecate’s shoulder as she stands framed in the doorway, seething.

“ _Ms. Hubble,_ it is the middle of the night.  Unless you intend to awaken the entire castle, I suggest you cease your banging at once,” Hecate bites out through clenched teeth in what sounds like a very angry whisper.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me the first time, but _there’s a ghost in my bed,_ ” she replies in the same tone.

“And?” Hecate asks, like she’s waiting for more.

“And it’s a _ghost._   In my bed.  Did you miss that part?”

Hecate, apparently desiring to be throttled, simply rolls her eyes like this whole disturbance is nothing more than an inconvenience for her.  And maybe, Julie thinks sourly, it is.  What does she care if the ghost does… well, ghost stuff to Julie?  She wants her gone; maybe she even sent the ghost.

Instinct tells Julie to abandon her mission and go find another door.  Miss Drill will be more sympathetic, she thinks.  But spite?  Well, spite is a powerful ally, and she’s feeling full of it tonight.  Spite tells her to stay put right there until Hecate helps her.  Julie steels herself and plants her feet, making clear her intention to remain there as long as it takes.

The ferocity is likely weakened by her own shivering—these damn drafts are horrible when one forgets a housecoat in their rush to get away from a bed-stealing ghost—but she doesn’t like to dwell on that too much.

“Fine, come in at least,” Hecate whispers, though the invitation is anything but welcoming.  Julie takes it with both hands and ploughs right on through, bumping Hecate out of the way to make herself at home.

And yeah, maybe she feels safer inside here away from the big scary ghost.  Hecate might be a piece of work, but she’s a powerful one when you need her.  Julie thinks this, but swears up and down to herself right then and there that she won’t be brought to admitting it.

She looks around the spacious rooms—it’s bigger than her own, but still somehow modest.  There is a door off to the side that she can only assume leads to a separate bedroom, while this seems to function as a combination between a sitting room and an office.  It’s not at all to Julie’s taste, but there’s an undeniable elegance to it all.  Hecate has a fireplace—currently unlit—and before it are two chairs and a little table.  Julie walks over and inspects them—the chairs are suspect.  One of them looks way too clean and pristine to be comfortable, but the other is much more worn.  Clearly it’s been sat in a few too many times, but some of the best chairs are, so Julie takes up residence in that one.

“By all means, have a seat,” Hecate bites out sarcastically.  “Would you like some tea?”  It’s said in a way that makes it clear Hecate isn’t truly offering, and Julie grins.

“Love a cup, thanks.”

Hecate grumbles to herself but sets her kettle to prepare it.  With a wave of her hand, the fire roars to life, warming Julie against the drafty chill.  She hands Julie the cup when it’s finished—notably not offering cream and sugar—and glares down at where she’s sitting.  Clearly it is Hecate’s preferred spot as well, but Julie doesn’t offer to move.  If she wants to fill her space with uncomfortable chairs, she can well sit in them.

With Hecate towering above her, and the immediate threat of the ghost out of sight, Julie takes the moment to assess the intimidating potions mistress.  There’s still a certain hardness about her and how she carries herself, but with her hair down in beautiful waves and her face wiped clean, she looks much younger.  Really kind of attractive, Julie thinks to herself.  In a cranky sort of way.

Julie sips her tea, jumping as it burns her tongue.  What she can taste of it is begrudgingly delicious.  “Thank you.”

Hecate grunts and finally moves away to take up camp in the stuffier chair.  She sits so straight, Julie can’t help but wonder why she cares what her chairs feel like.  She’s stiff as a board either way.

“Now, since you’ve seen fit to interrupt my sleep, what exactly is the issue?” Hecate asks, taking a deep breath halfway through as though to calm herself.

“There’s a ghost in my bed,” Julie repeats.  She can’t understand what’s so difficult to understand about this problem. 

“And what does that have to do with me?” Hecate asks dryly.  “It’s only a ghost.”

“Oi, you try waking up to a big glowing blue thing with no eyes staring at you in bed and see how you like it.”

Hecate narrows her eyes.  “No ghost would dare.  They know I would banish them.”

“Ahh so you can banish ghosts, then?  Can you get rid of mine?”

“Why should I?  It’s only a ghost.  What do you think it’s going to do to you, say boo?” Hecate quips.

Julie shrugs and shuffles nervously in her seat.  It is not easy to admit to Hecate that she truly does not know, and to do so feels increasingly like some kind of trap.  Her silence does her little favors, however, as Hecate seems to pick up on it regardless.  The witch sighs dramatically and holds a hand to her forehead.

“Ghosts are nominally harmless in most cases.  Occasionally you get a particularly disgruntled ghoul with a vendetta, but unless you’ve done irreversible damage to a recently deceased woman…”  Hecate pauses and looks at Julie pointedly, and she realizes after a moment that she’s actually asking.

Julie frowns.  “No, Miss H, can’t say that I have.”

“Then you likely have nothing to worry about.”

“I don’t like the sound of that ‘likely,’ and even if it’s not harmful, it’s still a _ghost_ in my _bed._   How am I supposed to sleep with that?”

“Very well.  If you’re going to be so dramatic about it, I suppose I can banish it for you tomorrow evening.  A pity—we haven’t had a ghost in the castle in years.”  Hecate sounds actually pained by the task at hand, but Julie’s much more concerned about another part of it.

“Tomorrow night?  Why not now?”

Hecate sighs, the hand on her forehead now rubbing what must be an oncoming headache.  “I know your rudimentary understanding of magic seems to have you under the impression that I can simply clap my hands and make all my wishes come true, but it is often much more complicated than that, _Ms._ Hubble.  Ghosts can be especially tricky to expel, and if I do not take the proper precautions in setting up the spell, it will be ineffective.”

“Right, okay, well then, thank you,” Julie says awkwardly.  She takes another sip of her tea. 

“Is that all, or will you be loitering longer?” Hecate asks sharply.

“Well where am I supposed to go?  I can’t very well go back to sleeping with a ghost!” Julie says, feeling desperate now that the prospect of leaving Hecate’s safe quarters is before her.

Hecate shrugs.  “What would you have me do about that?  Invite you to my bed for a slumber party?”

She knows it’s nothing more than a quip meant to make Julie feel like a silly schoolgirl for being afraid of her own bed, and yet, she doesn’t hate the idea.  Were it anyone else suggesting it, she’d have already been crawling in, but with Hecate she hesitates.  Even if the woman somehow does mean it seriously—which she’s certain she does not—is that really the kind of closeness they need, all things considered?

Then again, the other option is leaving, and that’s no good either.  The ghost is out there, somewhere, and Hecate might truly be the only one in the castle it’s afraid of disturbing.

“Well, now that you mention it, that sounds great, thanks!”  Julie says with false enthusiasm.  It’s worth it for the way Hecate’s eyes widen like an owl’s.

“I did not mean… You cannot just…”

“As long as I have to have a ghost in my bed, you can have a Hubble in yours.  Think it of it as motivation to get that banishment right tomorrow night,” Julie says with a determined grin.

Hecate looks ready to yell at her, or maybe simply transfer her away out into the woods, but somehow she refrains.  She can see the wheels turning in her head, shuffling through a hundred other possible solutions that will get Julie Hubble away from even thinking about her bed, but they are useless.  They both know this much stubbornness will never end well.

“Non-magical people and their ridiculous notions about ghost, unbelievable, can’t even handle a simple banishment on her own,” Hecate grumbles to herself.  She stands and moves in the direction of the supposed bedroom door, entering without another word on the subject.  She says nothing to Julie, but does not shut the door behind her.

She hesitates for a moment, surprised at the abrupt action.  She never expected Hecate to simply agree to let her spend the night there—still isn’t entirely sure she has agreed, and half worried that following her inside may lead to a swift death.

But then she hears a faint, “Are you coming?” and scurries inside before her luck can change.

Hecate’s bedroom is somehow just as she expected, yet simultaneously a surprise.  It is clear she’s spent a great deal of her life living at Cackle’s.  While the outer area felt very impersonal—used for taking tea with guests and reading her shelves and shelves of some sort of magic books undoubtedly—the inner area is where Hecate truly exists.  Julie feels almost guilty for intruding.

They’re everywhere.  Hecate with recognizable members of the Cackle’s staff—especially Ada, which is perhaps the only thing that isn’t surprising.  She’s also pictured several times with various groups of girls and a few older ones at some sort of witchy college graduation, if she has to guess, and Julie realizes they must be old students.  At the back of her dresser, there’s a frame that looks older than the rest.  Julie peeks around and sees no sight of Hecate, but another door that presumably leads to a bathroom has the sound of running water coming from inside.  Feeling a little too nosy now that she’s seeing a whole new side of Hecate, Julie can’t resist grabbing the frame to get a closer look. 

The photo inside is notably older than the rest, which all seem to be from Hecate’s adulthood.  This one depicts two teenage girls, one with a blonde ponytail dressed in a frilly pink dress, the other unmistakably a young Hecate, standing just the way she does now, clad in a conservative black dress.  The only real difference is that she’s smiling, holding hands with the other little girl and looking for all the world like she’s happy.

“Can I help you with your snooping?” Hecate quips dryly from right behind her.  Julie jumps in shock—how the _hell_ is this woman so quiet when she moves?—and nearly drops the frame.  Hecate transfers it to safety before it hits the ground, not stepping down or away and looking on as if waiting for an explanation.  Julie feels her cheeks burn red with shame.

“Sorry, Miss H.  I didn’t mean to, I just… you have such nice pictures, I’m surprised.”

“Surprised that I would have any fond memories?” she drawls.

“No no,” Julie backtracks, stepping away with her hands up.  “I’m sure you have plenty.  You just never struck me as one for clutter.”

“Yes, well,” Hecate sniffs, looking over at the picture Julie had been holding.  Her mouth shifts from something cross to almost a fond smile.  “Some things are worth the space.”

“You seem quite happy in that one,” Julie can’t help pointing out.  “Was she someone special?”

Hecate abandons her apparent reminiscing at once, looking over to Julie with a newly reinvigorated glare.  “How dare you ask about my personal life.”

“Just thought we should know each other a little better before hopping into bed together,” Julie snips back, making Hecate’s eyes widen once more.  She looks half ready to burst, and Julie takes pity on the witch this time.  “Calm down, am only joking.  You’re right, I shouldn’t have looked around without asking, and I shouldn’t have pried.  I’m sorry.  I’m very thankful that you’re letting me stay here.  You didn’t have to do that.”

Hecate looks down and clears her throat.  “Yes well, I can’t have you complaining to the Headmistress that I’ve mistreated you.”  She moves over to the bed, claiming what must be her side and returning to the disrupted covers from where she’d been asleep earlier in the night.

“I don’t think you’re under any obligation to share your bed with me, and I certainly wouldn’t complain about that if I haven’t complained about any of the actual rudeness you’ve put me through this week,” Julie says with a snort.  She walks cautiously to the other side of the bed and slips in, staying as close to the edge as she can.  Suddenly the reality of sharing a bed with Hecate Hardbroom is beginning to sink in.

“I have not been _rude,_ ” Hecate says, scoffing.  With no warning, she waves her hand and plunges them into the darkness.  Only the light of the moon filtering in through the window allows them to see a thing.

It’s a clear sign that the conversation is over, and Hecate intends to return to her sleep, but Julie isn’t having that.  She can’t just end on a very pointedly wrong lie.

“You sure as hell have been,” Julie says with a sobering dry laugh.  “I can’t say I understand it completely, either.  I know I’m not your favorite person in the world—I talk a lot and I like hugs, and you’re… well, you’re you.  But I don’t understand why you jump from that to hating me.  I can’t really believe you’re against non-magical people.  I’ve never seen you be anything less than polite to Miss Tapioca, and she’s ordinary too.”

She can hear a light grumble from Hecate’s side of the bed, but not enough to make it out.

“What was that?”

Hecate sighs loudly, as she often does.  “I said, I do not _hate_ you, Ms. Hubble.  I do not think Ada should have hired you, a woman with no teaching qualifications, as a teacher in this school full of magical children you have no realistic way of controlling.  I think your behavior has continuously placed you and your students in danger this entire week.  I think your utter disregard for the rules is a volatile disaster waiting to happen, and why you Hubbles seem to think you’re always exempt for them I will never understand.”

Julie swallows nervously.  Whatever response she expected to hear, it has never been that.

“Rules like what table I can sit at and what shoes I can wear?  Maybe you just don’t want to admit your code needs updating,” Julie bites back.

“The code is the very foundation upon which our witching society is built.  When it is ignored, dangerous things can happen.  You think I care about your ability to express yourself through open-toed sandals?  Well, I do not.  This is not an ordinary school, this is a school of magical children.  They make potions, sometimes even unauthorized ones.  Have you any idea how easy it would be for them to spill a little as you walk by?  How simple it would be to step in something volatile?  And some of them have no regard for personal autonomy and won’t even hesitate to do it on purpose.”

“They’re just little girls,” Julie points out.

“Sometimes little girls can be dangerous too,” Hecate says darkly, with a note of finality in her tone.  Julie wants to press her for more, but it seems a closed topic.

Perhaps another night.

“I see your point, I guess.  It wouldn’t hurt to put more consideration into following that code of yours.  At least the parts I can apply to myself,” Julie says awkwardly, feeling the fight draining out of her.  “There’s so many things about this job I never knew I’d need to think about.  Magic is incredible, but it’s like a whole new way of living.”

“Then you see why I think it is a dangerous idea to have a non-magical person teaching the students.  Miss Tapioca, as you’ve pointed out, is someone I am rather fond of, but she is not in charge of pupil safety.  Her job is food, which cannot be prepared with the use of magic, and she respects where her authority ends.  You, on the other hand, waltz around as if you could possibly do what we do.  Even if you follow every single rule of the code, and you get lucky with your buckets of water, you will never be able to handle everything these girls can throw at you.  You couldn’t even handle a harmless ghost tonight, Ms. Hubble.”

“To be fair, I didn’t know ghosts were real until I looked over and saw one.  Anyone would freak out about that—and don’t think I don’t still have a load of questions for you about them in the morning.  And I’m not saying you don’t make a good point, Miss H, but I think you’re wrong.”

“Pray tell, how am I wrong?”

“I can’t handle everything they throw at me, that’s true enough I’m sure, but I’m not the only adult in the school.  It seems to me that sometimes you lot need some non-magical assistance around here just as much as I might end up needing yours, if that time you all ended up frozen is anything to go by.  What if I hadn’t been here to thaw Millie?  Seems to me like having a more diverse skillset around can only make things safer,” Julie says softly.

“I will accept that you have something of a point in that.  It is not often such an event comes about, but clearly it can happen and we are… grateful… that you were able to assist.  To that end I can see your side of things, truly, but I just do not understand…” she trails off.

“What’s that?”  Julie tries to look at Hecate in the dark, but can only barely make out her silhouette. 

“How can you stand it?  To be surrounded all day and night by magic and unable to use any yourself?”

Julie shrugs.  “It’s not always easy.  I can’t say I don’t wonder what it feels like.  But I’ve never known any differently, and I know there’s a lot I can do that you lot don’t seem to know much about.”

“I couldn’t have done it,” Hecate says, barely above a whisper.  “I’ve never known life without magic.  I would never have been able to handle being around so much of it, knowing I have no way to control any of them if they get out of line.”

“Well, it’s a good thing you’ve got magic so you won’t need to try.”

“I almost did,” Hecate admits.  “I almost gave it away that day.”

“I know,” Julie says, remembering.  “But you still have it, and the ice is gone.”

“It hurt, afterwards I mean.  I don’t know why I’m even telling you this but… being emptied of my magic was one of the most painful experiences of my life.  It came back like teeth growing into a newborn.”

“Millie didn’t complain about any pain,” Julie says, frowning, wondering if she’s missed something important.

“She wouldn’t have,” Hecate waves her off, “the children would have hardly noticed it coming back.  Magic is constantly shifting and growing in them, like a muscle, and their bodies are used to it.  But for Ada and I, it was excruciating.  Yet still that pain was preferable to another second of fearing it would fail to return.”

Julie pauses in thought, putting Hecate’s strange confessions together in her head.  “And now you look at me, and you see what might have almost happened to you?  And that scares you, because you don’t think you would have had the skills to handle this job without it?” Julie guesses.

“In a sense, I suppose that’s what I’m saying.  And yet, you take for granted so deeply the position you are in when you ignore the rules.  All the good you may very well be capable of, and you throw it away, and it won’t just be you who has to pay for it in the end.”

“What if I learned them, then?” Julie asks.

“Pardon?”

“Your rules I mean—even the ones that seem ridiculous to me.  I might need some help, mind you, but I could put more time into learning them all, and if you see me breaking one you could maybe, in private, correct me without being too _mean_ about it….”

“I am not mean,” Hecate says with a pointed sniff.

Julie ignores the interruption and carries on, “With your help, maybe we could make this work out in a way you’re more comfortable with, and everyone is safer with.  I know the rules are important to you, and I’m sorry I didn’t try harder to understand them sooner, but I think we’ve still got time.  How does that sound?”

“That sounds like an improvement,” Hecate says, sounding reluctant. 

“Good, then that settles it.  Things are gonna be better between us, Miss H, you’ll see.”  Julie yawns, her earlier desire for sleep finally beginning to return.

“I am doubtful of that if you insist on continuing to call me Miss H.  That itself is already a violation of—“

“Fine, _Miss Hardbroom._ Is that better?  And can we agree that some of these rules really aren’t that necessary?”

“Better.  And that is most unlikely, but you may consider it all you wish,” Hecate quips.

Julie rolls her eyes and turns on her side, stifling another yawn.

“You’ll see, we’ll get along great.  Someday you’ll be inviting me over here even when I don’t have a ghost in my bed.”

“If you say so,” Hecate replies dryly, sounding like she too is beginning to drift off to sleep, the both of them much lighter now.

“Then you can tell me all about your girlfriend in that old photo.”

“ _Ms. Hubble_.”

“Goodnight, Hardbroom,” Julie says with a sleepy laugh.

Hecate sighs one last, dramatically heavy time.  “Goodnight, Hubble.”


End file.
